Don't Worry, Be Happy
by x0wynn0x
Summary: She visited with the intention of admitting her feelings, not to get roped into a party straight out of a Pride ad, tortured with bad karaoke, forced to listen to people's bad advice, get sexually harassed, and oh - watched the girl of her dreams dangle off some GQ-lite boy's arm. For Faberry Week - Prompt: Jealousy.


**AN:** Faberry Week, prompt: Jealousy.

So the story turned out way longer than I had originally intended! I just wanted to do a little something something, jealousy, then sexy time, but then it turned into Quinn having chats with _everyone_. It's unbeta-ed and rushed so that I could submit it on time, so be nicceeee.

* * *

This was probably the gayest thing she's ever been to, and that's not an exaggeration considering she's been to Jodie Foster's clambake. Quinn was not one to judge because – hello, kid at 16 – but did that man really needed to walk around in super short, cut-off shorts? It's her retinas that she felt more sorry and offended for, not her morals.

"This is like every gay pride parade in the nation cramped up inside one apartment topped with a flying rainbow kitty," Santana said next to her. "See, it's so flaming that even my insults are more glittery than bitter-ry."

Quinn frowned. "I guess this is New York's way of throwing a party."

"Then consider counting me in!"

Santana took that as her cue to holler something offensive, shimmying her way to the middle of the living room, which has now been converted into a dance floor. One of Kurt's boss' friends immediately latched themselves behind Santana, trying to keep up with her and failing miserably. Quinn had to give it to Brittany – that girl was the only one who could keep up with Santana on any surface.

"Hey you."

Quinn snapped her gaze away from her best friend, growing flush in the face because oh-my-god she hoped no one thought she was _checking_ Santana out. She smiled weakly when she saw that it was Rachel. "Oh – hello. Haven't seen you all night."

"Sorry, I was entertaining some of Kurt's co-workers." Rachel pointed to the kitchen area where Kurt was in deep conversation with three others dressed exactly like him. Rachel leaned into Quinn, whispering in a scandalized voice, "Did you know that man over there once gave Chuck Wagner an h-a-n-d-j-o-b behind a back alleyway? I didn't, and I for sure hadn't asked for that story or ever want to remember it, ever again."

"That's…very interesting."

"I made a lists of subjects to discuss since most of them have worked in various Broadway productions, but apparently gossiping about fellatio and bodily fluids was a better ice breaker."

Just hearing Rachel say the words bodily fluids was enough for Quinn to drown her glass of very non-alcoholic ice tea. She nearly choked on an ice cube but saved herself the embarrassment by pretending to clear her throat.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "They're not worth your time anyways. You're here now to save me from standing in this corner like a complete loser."

She laughed, awkwardly, because Rachel hadn't laughed along. Then she remembered that not even 3 years ago, Rachel would have been standing in a corner by herself at one of Quinn's parties (if Quinn had even bothered to invite her) like a complete loser. She raised her cup to her lips as an attempt to stop herself from saying anymore horrible things.

After a while, Rachel asked, "Are you bored?" Her eyebrows dropped to emphasize her sadistically Bambi-like doe-eyes. "Do you want to…go home? Can I get you something else to drink? Or eat? Would you like me to conjure you up a chair to sit on?"

"What? Wait – no. I'm not _bored_ per-se and I can't exactly go home at 10 o'clock at night unless I want to get mugged and I already have a drink and I'm not thirsty and how would you conjure up a chair when you're as tiny as a chair?"

Quinn put forth her best Quinn Fabray-smirk to prove that she was joking, and it appeared to work because Rachel went from deer being told her mother died to deer being happy it hadn't gotten ran over by a car. Quinn melted at the sight – it had always been Rachel's toothy smiles that got to her, and that hadn't changed regardless of how far apart they were or how long they haven't seen each other.

Rachel's smile (and Beth) was the only thing Quinn appreciated in this useless, cold, forsaken world.

"I'm sorry we haven't gotten much time together," Rachel said. "When I told Kurt that we should throw a mini get-together since you and Santana are here, I hadn't expected him to throw an all out party. The last time this happened was during Thanksgivings and somebody – who shall remain nameless due to the fact that they threatened to sue if word leaked out about it – ended up fornicating with our turkey. Don't ask."

Quinn disregarded the turkey comment because it was just better than way. "That's alright. You're here now and it'll give us time to catch –"

"HELLO EVERYBODY!"

Ah – there he was. All American Brody Whatshisname. Quinn's body became stiff as a board, and her eyes narrowed in on him the moment he stepped foot inside Rachel and Kurt's apartment as if he'd been there countless of times before; as if he owned the place or lived in it. He hadn't even knocked and nobody had answered the door, waltzing inside with his Armani suit knock-offs and donkey face.

"Les go say hi to Brody real quick," Rachel said, briefly grazing Quinn's arm.

Quinn shook her head. "You go first. I'll be right back."

If there was anything Quinn didn't like, it was competition.

* * *

"So –"

Quinn's eyebrows pushed together at the start of Santana's sentence. She wasn't disappointed.

" –have you managed to bond with Finn Jr. yet? From what I heard, you two have much in common with your boning the professor stories."

"Screw off, Santana."

"I'd love to but I'm emotionally taken and you're probably about as good in bed as having ice cubes shoved up the vagjayjay."

"You're disgusting."

"And you're repressing. Who the hell smokes on fire escapes nowadays? That's so 90s grunge angst, and just because you go to Yale for acting doesn't mean you're a struggling actor who ponder over their own existence by smoking on fire escapes."

Quinn was tempted to burn Santana's black and blue striped, skin-tight dress with her cigarette, but she's afraid Santana might catch on fire, burn the apartment down, and kill Rachel in the process. Just because Santana's Satan in disguise and was used to fire and destruction, doesn't mean Rachel should suffer. Even though Rachel wa_s_ ignoring her at the moment because precious Brody stepped into the room.

"Ok, stay quiet," Santana continued. "I'd sit down with you and emo over whatever Twilight angst you got going on there, but I'm starting to feel like Rachel every time she opens her mouth and paragraphs come out but no one's responding because we're all too busy ignoring her."

"Don't talk about Rachel like that."

"Aha, so it is about the midget."

Quinn crushed off her finished cigarette and searched for another one, but Santana snatched her box up. She half expected Santana to toss the whole carton into the street for the hobos to carry off, but the other girl took one out for herself and gave the rest back. Quinn quickly lit one up, touched her burning end to Santana's end, and they both began smoking in comfortable silence.

"I thought we could talk when I got here," Quinn began after it was apparent that Santana wasn't leaving her side any time soon. "Me and Rachel, that is. I thought that now that I'm here, we could finally talk face to face about all these messed up feelings that I've had for her. I was too much of a chicken to even do it through email."

She laughed bitterly before taking another long drag and continuing, "Who was I kidding? I messed it up when I began dating my professor and now she's all over Brody like he's the next – like he's the next Finn Hudson. Why would anyone want another Finn Hudson?"

Santana snickered. "Same reason why anyone would want an STD. Oh, wait, no one wants an STD. Honestly, what made you think dating a professor was a good idea and why the hell would you even brag about it? And to _Rachel_ out of all people."

"Because –" Quinn blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. " – Because I'm a clueless idiot who thought being straight was as simple as adding male to female. Apparently, when you're in love with someone, you can't just stop."

"I could have told you that."

"At least the person you love, loves you back."

"Yeah, because it's my lips Brits is on right now and not some froggy-lipped Wonderbread boy."

"Oh please, Sam wanted to marry me after we've known each other for six weeks. Your mullet-wearing days will last longer than that relationship."

"Ok, first off, I thought we agreed not to talk about the mullet. Second, this isn't about me and B right now, it's about you and Berry. How about you flannel up and just admit your feelings?"

"It's not that easy. For one thing, no one knows that I'm exactly…," she whispered,"…gay. For another thing, just because I tell Rachel I have feelings for her doesn't mean I want to jump into any sort of relationship. I'm already freaking out about the prospect of having feelings for her."

"God, why are you such a pussy? You're headstrong and brave in every aspect of your life but you can't even shed a little emotion when it comes to someone you like. Is it _that_ hard for you to, I don't know, feel?"

The cigarette's heat caught Quinn's attention. It's about burnt to the filter since she hadn't smoked in a while. She crushed it up with its sibling and ached to take another one out, but she didn't want to go back in smelling like a chimney. Anyways, with everything that Santana was saying – it only reminded her of once ago when a sad, pathetic little boy broke up with her after a funeral. That's the last thing she ever wanted to be reminded of when it comes to her feelings toward Rachel.

"Don't talk to me like you know how I'm feeling," she said, calmer than before, because she'd always found it easier to lie when she sounds detached. "Despite how friendly we are when it's convenient, you don't know me well like, Santana. I've accepted that I like Rachel, and I plan on being honest and upfront about it to her, but don't expect me to start throwing up rainbow flags and getting on a pride float. I'm not comfortable in being you, your people or half of the people inside this party."

Santana stared at her for a good few seconds before flicking her cigarette down into the alleyway. She shook her head and pushed herself away from the railing. "Whatever you say, bitch. I was trying to help but I guess repeating all your mistakes are easier than, I don't know, changing? Growing up? Peace out while I go have fun with _my_ _people._"

Quinn told herself not to, but when Santana ditched her to go back into the party, Quinn's eyes trailed after her and looked. There, inside the warmth of the apartment, were people laughing and dancing and drinking and talking. They didn't care about what they looked like or how they acted. They probably didn't care about who they were going to end up sleeping with, as long as they were _happy_.

And Santana looked happy the moment she rejoined them and barked at Kurt to get her another drink. Not far away, Rachel was with Brody and some other people, smiling that special smile. It's enough to make Quinn taste bile in her throat.

She turned back to the streets, puffing out a cloud of depressing air, and pulled out another cigarette. She'd never been able to give up smoking after the failed punk phrase. She did it to relieve the stress on her body and ease her mind, but ironically it never made her heart feel any better during or afterwards. It didn't get rid of the sharp twist and tugs to her chest.

She's sort of settled on the idea that it's killing her, slowly but surely, with every deep intake.

* * *

"You smell like nicotine and death."

Quinn jumped and might have possibly squealed (but she won't admit to it). As soon as she saw who it was through the bathroom mirror, she resumed drying off her hand and turning off the sink.

"I had one," she told Rachel.

"One? I saw the left overs, you had more like 4. Actually, I counted, Quinn, and you had precisely 4 cigarettes. Do you know how many years of life you've just taken off?"

Quinn leaned against the sink and folded her arms because – because she's no longer 17 and Rachel no longer had the right to lecture her. "I'm fine, ok? It's not like I smoke out of habit. I only do it when I absolutely need to."

"That sounds like you smoke when you're stress. You're not a stressful smoker are you? I heard those are the worst kinds – especially since you're now a college student and if stress isn't on your list as a college student then you're not really a college student."

Rachel's blundering and blabbering would sound cute to Quinn's ear any other time of the day, but right now wasn't exactly a good time. All Quinn wanted to do after seeing Rachel practically drape herself over Brody was crawl under a bus and die. She might call up Finn and ask him about his gun-wielding technique.

"I'm not stress," she lied. "Again, I'm fine."

"Ok." Rachel didn't look like she was convinced, but the girl was anything but not persistent. Her fingertips trailed lightly down Quinn's crossed arms before settling in the center, right between Quinn's comfy, cardigan-clad breasts. "You sort of disappeared for a while, and I had asked Santana where you were but she said something about you moping around in Paris with your shirt off and sparkling? I honestly don't understand Santana-speak half the time."

"She's crazy. You should never listen to her about anything."

"Maybe I should, because later she relented and said you were outside smoking, and I thought you'd given up that ill-advised habit." Stepping closer, Rachel fished out Quinn's wrist to pull her crossed arms apart. She grabbed onto Quinn's hand and swung it lightly between their bodies. "Are you sure you're ok with this party? I can call it off and you, me, Kurt and Santana can have a quiet night with a movie."

Quinn wondered if Rachel had forgotten about Brody in that sentence, but then it's best she not think about Brody. The thought of that guy made her want to do things she wouldn't normally do, like sing a song about how completely bland and pointless he was. She's no longer in Glee club, she shouldn't be wanting to _sing_ about her feelings.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I'm fine, Rachel. Just drop it, ok?"

She gave Rachel's hand a squeeze and before she knew it, she's being pulled into a hug that has her heart skipping beats. Her arms goes limp, but before she could consider wrapping them around Rachel's petite form, Rachel pulled away.

"I hope that hug makes you feel better," Rachel said, ducking her eyes to the floor. "In the meantime, lets go back to the party, ok? And stop running off so I can't find you."

Quinn could only mumble a reply because she's still left reeling over the hug.

Rachel dragged her back to the party where one of Brody's friends have brought over a karaoke machine and now they're blasting 90s pop music. Yeah, as if Brody wasn't annoying enough he has friends who own little karaoke machines and they have spontaneous karaoke sessions at random people's parties. Upon seeing Santana and some stranger bitch belt out, "I Want You Back," by N'Sync, Quinn was mortified but sensible enough to wipe out her phone and tape it for future blackmailing.

"Do you want to duet with me?" Rachel asked, almost jumping up and down in her spot.

Quinn was quick to say, "No."

"Come one, Quinn! You know our pleasantly surprising duet of "I Feel Pretty/Unpretty" has been used as the staple for how to pleasantly surprise with duets in Glee clubs across the nation. I know, because I visited one in Oklahoma and they were using _our_ rendition as inspiration."

"As unrealistic as that sound, I'm still not going to do it, Rachel. I never liked being the center of singing attention. I only agree to do solos in Glee because Mr. Schue threatened to tell my mother about finding pot in my locker. He's a jerk, by the way."

Rachel pouted and gripped onto Quinn's arm. "Come on, please? I don't think I can stand Santana – in her inebriated state – butchering a classic. Her partner can't even carry a tune or pretend like she's even trying. It's offensive."

Quinn shook her head again. She couldn't. She just couldn't. Even though she really wanted to, it's a bad idea. She might end up doing something stupid, like outing herself because she couldn't stop from goggling at Rachel like a love-sick puppy. She might even drop the mic and grab Rachel into a deep kiss. Or worst, she might go off key, make Rachel realize she's horrid and not worth Rachel's talent, and drive Rachel into the arms of someone who can carry a tune.

"Hey, Rach, lets duet!"

Oh, of course. Of motherfucking course.

Brody ninja-snuck his way between them and wrapped an arm around Rachel's shoulder, his smile cheesy to the point of Jesse St. James level. "I called the next dibs already, but I still haven't found a partner. Lets sing some Celine Dion and show them how it's really done like we did with Demi Lavato, what'd you say?"

Rachel stared at Quinn, and if Quinn wasn't so busy seething at Brody she could have picked up on Rachel's question. Question like, 'do you want me to duet with him?' and 'are you still sure _you_ don't want to duet with me?' But no, Quinn was fuming and trying to mask it up by keeping her face as blank as possible, which took up a lot of energy and attention – attention she couldn't give to Rachel.

"Uh – Rachel?"

"What? Yeah?" Rachel blinked at Brody then back to Quinn, but Quinn still looked like she didn't care which way the wind blew. "Well, if no one _else_ wants to duet with me…"

Quinn glanced at the ground, jaws clenched.

"…I guess I could…duet with you…Brody."

"Great! I've got the perfect song in mind. Oh hey." Brody turned his smile to Quinn, as if he was finally aware of her presence. Quinn thought he was just being a dick, because there was no way in hell he hadn't noticed Rachel talking to her first. "I'll bring her right back. It's nice to finally meet you, Quinn."

There's a hand, but Quinn doesn't bother to shake it. "Right, nice to meet you too. You guys should go sing, I think Santana's done."

Brody drew his hand back and pretended to run it through his hair. "Yeah, I guess we should. Come on superstar. Lets not keep the our audience waiting."

Rachel spared Quinn one last unreadable look before getting pulled away. By the time Rachel was at the center of the living room, mic in hand, Quinn had slipped into the bathroom to "re-do" her eyeliner.

* * *

They're not bad – Brody and Rachel singing together – but they're not spectacular either. Rachel's voice is a force to be reckoned with, while Brody's could easily passed as the next boyband sensation. Maybe she's biased or (slightly!) petty, but Quinn thought that Brody's singing actually brought Rachel's down. Sort of like how every time Finn did a duet with Rachel it sounded more like a cat dry-heaving along with someone's perfectly in-tune singing – the cat being Finn.

That was why Quinn could never enjoy a Finn-Rachel duet.

"Gosh, they're so cute together, don't you think?"

Quinn glanced up from her spot by the Hummelberry's bookshelf (aka Broadway shrine), where she'd been glaring at Brody and Rachel all night. She had successfully avoided many people tonight by either ignoring their questions or sending them looks as if they were a spec of dirt. Apparently, Kurt was too used to her to be affected by either.

"Sure Kurt, if you're into that sort of thing." She gave him a sugary sweet smile so fake that his own smile quickly turned into a grimace.

"Ok, maybe not," he said. "You don't look like you're enjoying this party much. You're like the only one. I never thought I'd see it, considering how evil and in denial she was in high school, but even Santana has turned into 50 Shades of Gay."

Quinn held up her drink. "I'm more of a 50 Shades of Gray Goose Vodka fan."

His grimace only deepened. "I would laugh, if I hadn't remembered your family's horrid affair with alcohol and your mom's current alcoholism. Are you sure you don't want me to switch that out with something less alcoholic?"

"I'm joking, it's only iced tea." He continued to stare at her before she tipped the cup for him to smell. "I _do_ do that, you know. Joke. I joke sometimes."

"Ah, right. The only form of joking I ever saw from you back in high school was your incessant on wearing blazers over summer dresses."

"People change. Like you for instant, you sound more of a snappy little bitch than usual."

He frowned, uncertained whether or not she was offending him or joking with him. But since she's practically Rachel's (second) best friend now, he figured it wouldn't hurt to finally and properly befriend McKinley's former Ice Queen. "Ok, lets start all over. Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel and you're Quinn Fabray and welcome to my humble abode."

Quinn gave Kurt's hand a brief look before shaking her head and turning her attention back to the singing duo from hell.

"So we won't shake it on," Kurt mumbled. He doesn't know why he's doing this, considering there were handfuls of other, less rude people around that would love to talk to him. He was going to hang up his hat and slowly back away before he noticed Quinn's clenched jaw. Then he noticed her eyes, glazed over and – dare he think it – teary?

His own followed Quinn's direction until they landed on the perfectly cute couple singing a perfectly cute song. _Oh, no, no, no_ he thought, glancing back and forth from Quinn's stone cold demeanor to Rachel and Brody. This shouldn't be happening. Again. Why does this always happen? Did Rachel and Quinn drink from the same milk when they were bab – ah, no, Kurt shook his head from finishing that train of thought because female breasts were just _disgusting._

He should walk away and never look back, but the best friend part inside of him won't let it go. Rachel has done so much for him – this is something that he could do for her.

"Quinn…" he lowered his voice, thankful for the loud music, "…correct me if I'm wrong, but you've only met Brody today, am I right?"

His question broke Quinn from her glaring, but that only meant her glare was sent his way instead. She didn't answer, so he took that as a yes and continued, "Look, I know it's not exactly my place to tell you this, but you're going to be staying here tonight and I'd rather not wake up to a bloodbath in the morning so let me just put it out there. Brody likes Rachel, and I'm certain that Rachel likes Brody, so please, whatever you're thinking, don't. Rachel's my best friend now and I hate to see her get hurt again because of you. Why do you guys always have to fight over the same guys when there are plenty of them in the sea? We're in New York - maybe I can introduce you to some of my fellow intellectual deviants. Do you get what I'm saying?"

Quinn's brows furrowed then one arched because – _what the fuck_? she thought.

"You're probably thinking of a million ways to tell me to mind my own business, I know." He touched her arm, but dropped it when he noticed the move made her scowl. "I'm just trying to look out for my best friend. You can see that she's finally happy, so why mess with it? If you really want to be in Rachel's life and work on this friendship of yours, just please, _please_, leave Rachel and Brody alone. Ok?"

She swallowed, hard, and bit down the tongue that wants to lash out and send Kurt crying to his cheating ex-boyfriend. This _thing_ she had with Rachel was never about Brody, or Finn, or even Puck. His insinuations were completely off mark and she had the right mind to tell him off but…

But he was right.

Rachel was happy. Looking at Rachel and Brody, singing their hearts off with the crowd rooting them on, Quinn could tell that the girl loved the attention that sleazebag buffoon was giving her. The only thing Quinn could accomplish by stepping in between them with her "I like you, but I can't be with you," stance is making Rachel's life more miserable.

She quirked her lips, the smile freaking Kurt out more than her usual scowl. "It's lovely that you're standing up for your so called best friend 4 years later, but you have nothing to worry about. Your idiot of a stepbrother and Lima's biggest male skank is more desirable than Brody. So, can you please leave me alone before you further ruin whatever civility we have for each other?"

She turned back around, already zoning out whatever Kurt had to say. Fortunately, he got the hint and didn't say anything else. He huffed, raised his chin, and stalked away.

Quinn sighed and leaned her head against the bookshelf.

* * *

She wanted to stay mad at Rachel, but she couldn't because the girl seemed to somehow slither her way back into Quinn's good graces. It partially had to do with Rachel declining Brody's suggestion of doing an encore performance. Then it mostly had to do with Rachel dragging Quinn away from her hermit hole to dance along with the karaoke version of "I Will Survive." Quinn was hesitant, because after her accident she hadn't exactly been a dancing queen (besides that one time when someone by the name of Will Schuester forced her into an all girl-group in order to win a competition).

"Relax," Rachel whispered close to Quinn's ear.

The whispering does the complete opposite of relaxing Quinn. She stiffened, letting Rachel do whatever she wanted with their hands. They're not exactly dancing; Rachel was swinging their arms back and forth and bouncing on her feet like an excited little girl, and Quinn was fighting back a laugh while swaying idly on her spot.

Eventually, Quinn's reluctance was chipped away and she began to join in on Rachel's erratic moves. At one particular point, Rachel tried to spin Quinn underneath her arms but her height deficit messed the move up and they spent time trying to untangle themselves. At another, Quinn tried to dip Rachel, but she wasn't prepared for how heavy the tiny girl was and they stupidly stumbled into another couple.

It was all fun and games until Rachel threw her arms over Quinn's shoulder, meshing their lower bodies together. On instinct, Quinn wrapped her arms around Rachel's waist and suddenly, their dancing was no longer a joke. Quinn had danced with people, but she's never danced like _this –_ where she's obviously in the male lead. It felt odd no longer having to look up, since that's what Quinn did with all her male partners.

Odd, but not weird or wrong.

"Hi," Rachel said.

Quinn smiled. "Hello."

"Are you having fun?"

"I am now."

They swayed back and forth on their spot, despite everyone around them moving like they were at a rave. Quinn couldn't stop her hands from rubbing Rachel's lower back, and Rachel was oblivious to her own hands picking at the hair on Quinn's neck. This was the closest they've ever been to each other, so Quinn took complete advantage of it by roaming her eyes across every facet of Rachel's face. From Rachel's cute little cheek mole, to her full cherry lips, and then to her gorgeous Bambi-eyes – Quinn soaked everything in.

It made her chest ache and thaw, and sappy words threatened to vomit from Quinn's breathless mouth. How could something like this exist, and why had Quinn been so _awful_ to it?

Then the atmosphere was broken when someone whispered across Quinn's neck, "I like this kind of party."

Quinn instantly froze.

A new body joined them, pressing against Quinn's back. A pair of hands not belonging to Rachel gripped onto her hips and an unwelcome lips ghosted across her jaw. Quinn tilted her head sideways to see a woman she's never met before – a woman who's touching her and grinding against her backside.

A woman who looked ready to eat both of them up.

The panic settled in. Quinn frantically looked around the room, finally noticing for the first time that there were men pressed against men, women rubbing against each other, Kurt flirting with a guy twice his age, and Santana on Rachel's couch sticking her tongue down the throat of some blonde who looked suspiciously like Brittany.

_God_, she couldn't do this.

"I need – I need some water," Quinn said, extricating away herself from the body sandwich. She couldn't look at Rachel's face. She couldn't see the flash of hurt or worry.

She was too busy trying to breathe properly and trying to convince herself that the room was definitely not closing in and her chest wasn't going to explode. When she made it to the kitchen, she drowned two glasses of cold water and splashed a little bit of it on her face. She recomposed herself and turned back to the party, but there were so many people that it was difficult to single Rachel out from the crowd.

She surveyed the party again, seeing the same thing as before, but this time the sight wasn't bothering her. Her best female friends were gay, she'd been around Kurt and Blaine for two years, she was _used_ to seeing same-sex affection, but there was no denying that she panicked when it became her turn - when it became about her.

_It didn't bother you when Rachel was touching you. _

She rubbed at her temples. This was so screwed up. How could she ever be out and proud with Rachel when she couldn't even handle a simple –

"Look at you."

Quinn blinked her weary eyes opened and came face to face with someone who reminded her of an older Frannie. She sneered when she recognized who the woman was from all the pictures Rachel had sent her.

"Do I know you?" Quinn said, masking her features in.

Cassandra July smirked and stepped inside Quinn's bubble, making the younger blonde retreat back against the edge of the kitchen counter. "I don't think so. I would remember a pretty face like yours, and I'm sure you would definitely remember memorable little ol' me."

"Cassandra July, the psycho alcoholic Broadway extraordinaire."

"I see Rachel's been talking about me. Good things too, from the word of it." A finger ran down Quinn's cheek before she could jolt away. "Now, now, calm down. I don't plan on going all Jodie Foster on you, young Kristen Stewart. You look like you're two seconds away from bolting through a window. Gay panic?"

Quinn gulped and swiped her finger away. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You don't know –"

"I don't need to. I saw the way you and Schwimmer were dancing. I saw the way you freaked when that woman joined you guys. You see, in my business I specialize in body language. All I need to know about you is the sway of your hips."

Like that, Cassandra was two inches way from Quinn's face with her hands making a path from Quinn's thigh, up her hips, around her breasts, and then over her neck. A leg moved between Quinn's own, and pressed forward, making all the air hitched out from her mouth. The usual panic kicked in, but Quinn found her body unable to do anything but gawked in fright. This is what a dying animal must feel like when surrounded by circling vultures.

"You're absolutely beautiful," Cassandra whispered, dangerously close to Quinn's lips. "I don't know what Schwimmer was thinking – passing a chance like you up for a guy so dull he makes it impossible to insult him without falling asleep."

Quinn slowly closed her eyes, knowing exactly where this evil bitch was going to take this.

"Lets give her a good show, why don't we?"

Quinn snapped her eyes open at Cassandra's words just in time for those lips to crash into hers. The kiss was all lips and teeth, venomous and not even close to pleasurable. It's everything she doesn't want because Rachel –

Rachel!

Rachel was watching them, right over Cassandra's shoulder. Rachel was wide-eyed and opened mouth and frozen in her spot, watching them. Then Cassandra pulled back and it's Cassandra that's watching Quinn. Sadistic mirth – that's the only way for Quinn to describe the look in Cassandra's eyes.

"Welp, it was nice meeting you," Cassandra said, stepping away then turning around to face Rachel. "Great party Schwimmer, although it's a little too gay for me. I'll see you in class."

Cassandra didn't bother to spare them one last look as she made her grand exit. Sort of like how Rachel didn't bother to spare Quinn one last look as she disappeared back into the party.

* * *

_Fuck, this is horrible _was all Quinn could think of for the rest of the night.

After the stunt Cassandra pulled, Rachel hadn't spoken or hung around Quinn. Rachel seemed to have found a comfortable spot under Brody's arms and made a home in it. Quinn should be angry at the obvious game Rachel was playing, but she's too wrapped up in her on misery to properly consider the fact that Rachel was playing a game.

Quinn wanted to speak to someone, but Santana was still pissed off at her and Kurt would probably drown Draino before being her ear. She'd already made a mess of things and she hasn't even been there for a full day yet.

When she couldn't stand one more second at the party that was more depressing than fun, she slipped her way into Rachel's blanketed room. The room gave her a bit of privacy and seclusion, but there was no point trying to seek silence because the walls were_ blankets_. She flopped down on Rachel's bed (she doesn't care where their friendship stood at the moment, Rachel said she could sleep on her bed so she's using her bed) and pulled out her phone, calling the only person that could possibly help her.

"You should tell her you love her and make lady babies," was Brittany's simple answer to everything.

"But I –"

"No buts, ors, dos, don'ts, who, what, when, where, why, and sometimes how. Just do it. Santana did it, and now we're like, madly in love."

"You're also broken up and dating Sam."

"Who?"

"Sa –"

"That's besides the point. Why would you want to be unhappy when you could be happy?"

Quinn buried her face into her hands before replying, "Because I'm scared."

"Why?"

"Because…because I was raised not to be gay, and I tortured Rachel in high school, and Rachel looks happy with Brody and I don't want to ruin that. We have so many things going against us."

"Are you sure about that? Your fears are all hypothetical situations; scientific theories without any form of evidence. I want you to test out your hypotenuse by telling Rachel how you feel, and come back to me with evidence that your fears have been confirmed."

Quinn pouted, having difficulty accepting the fact that Brittany made more sense than having a guy who can't speak Spanish teach a Spanish class (she will never get over Mr. Schu's existence). "I'll keep that in mind. But for right now, I think I'm just going to go to bed. This party is giving me a headache."

"If you had been with Rachel, would this party be giving you a headache?"

A pause, and then, "No."

"See. I think it's time for you to be happy, Quinn."

"Thank you, B. I miss you."

"I miss you too. Call me later, ok? And please tell Santana that Lord Tubbington is going through Santana withdrawals and have reverted back to walking on four legs, so she should probably call him some time soon."

Quinn laughed, feeling relaxed for the first time that night. "Ok, I will. Love ya – bye."

She tossed the phone back into her bag and buried her face into the pillow, letting Rachel's smell surround her.

* * *

The bed dipping was what woke Quinn up. She blinked several times before realizing that the lights were turned off, and that there was a substantial lack of sound. She stayed perfectly still on the bed as a darker shadow moved around before making itself comfortable beside her.

The party must have been over – thank goodness – so whoever was next to her was either Santana or Rachel. She silently hoped it was Rachel, because although she would be more comfortable sleeping with Santana, the thought of being in the same bed with Rachel sends inexplicable excitement through her. It's something she has thought about, countless of times before, and to have it come into fruition…

The person beside her shifted, rolled over to one side then the other, pulled on the blanket, pushed the blanket away, and coughed.

"Rachel?" Quinn whispered.

"So you're not asleep."

Quinn sighed and moved onto her side, facing Rachel's black silhouette. Even through the darkness she could see hints of shine from Rachel's eyes. "Yeah, I'm not asleep. What time is it?"

"A little past 3am."

Silence, but neither of them closed their eyes or attempted to go to sleep.

"You sort of disappeared again," Rachel said. "I thought…I thought maybe you'd left."

"Where would I have gone in the middle of the night, in New York none the less?"

"I don't know. Cassandra's, maybe?"

Quinn wanted to laugh, but found her energy gone. "I don't even know her."

"Your mouth sure did," Rachel mumbled.

Oh, wow. Suddenly re-energized, Quinn snaked her hand under the covers to wrap over Rachel's hand. "I don't know what you're trying to assume, but you're wrong, ok? I was just standing there and she came out of nowhere, said a few words, and kissed me."

"So she basically assaulted you?"

"Basically."

Another silence. Rachel eventually turned her hand over so that they were palm to palm, and clasped their fingers together. "You know, if you give me a detailed statement we can make a sexual harassment claim against her."

Quinn chuckled. "That won't be necessary. I think her kissing me was the least offensive thing I've encountered at this party."

"Oh, really? What was your most offensive."

"Kurt trying to sing a Boyz II Men song with Santana."

They laughed quietly before another around of silence hit them.

"I'm sorry," Rachel whispered.

"For what?"

"For jumping to conclusions and ignoring you for the rest of the night. You have to understand how confused I was that you ran away from our...little moment and then I find you kissing my professor from - excuse my french - hell. I was going to ignore you for the rest of the night but I couldn't bring myself to it. And plus, I don't want to be kicked out of my own bed. It's Tempurpedic, you know?"

"I can feel it." Quinn frowned. "So you admit that you were ignoring me because Cassandra kissed me?"

It took a while before Rachel answered. "Yeah." It took another while before Rachel added, "I'm going to sideways hug you now, ok?"

There was no point fighting it, so Quinn allowed Rachel to scoot over and hug her side. In the end, it was less of a hug and more of a cuddle – Rachel's head rested across her collarbone and her arms were wrapped around Rachel's back. Not in a million years would Quinn have found herself in this predicament.

"I'm…I'm sorry too."

Rachel raised her head, her words brushing alongside Quinn's jaw. "For what?"

"For everything that happened in high school. For everything that's happening now. For being cold and distant at your own party and _house _when all you've been is welcoming to me and Santana."

Rachel laid her head back and down squeezed Quinn's side. "It's alright, Quinn. I under –"

"No, no you don't. I'm sorry – I'm –" Quinn's body vibrated, so she took a deep breath and remembered Brittany's words. Be Happy. "I'm sorry for being jealous. Of you and Brody. I'm mostly sorry for being jealous of Brody."

Rachel snapped her head up, taking her body with it until she rested on her elbow. They found each other's eyes through the darkness and looked at each other in silence before Rachel asked, "Jealous of Brody? As in, you were jealous of Brody? Brody. Jealous of Brody? Not of me. But of Brody?"

Quinn found it difficult to use her voice, so she nodded.

"Why – why were you jealous of Brody?"

A smile graced Quinn's lips. She reached out to run her hand through Rachel's hair then cupped a warm cheek. Her nerves, the ones that were frying all night, seemed to have magically settled upon witnessing _Rachel_ stuttering. "Isn't it obvious by now?"

She could feel Rachel's cheek expanding in her palm. Then a chuckle, deep within Rachel's chest, burst open. The girl dropped her face down in between Quinn's neck and shoulder, half-laughing and half-saying, "I can't believe this is happening…I can't – I can't believe it."

Quinn tried to move her head back to get a better look at Rachel, but the girl continued to nuzzle into her neck. "Why are you laughing? Is this – is this funny?"

"No! No! Of course not." Rachel settled down, gave Quinn's neck a brief kiss that froze the other girl, and raised her head again. "Those were happy laughs. I'm happy. So you – are you –"

"Yes."

"And you –"

"Yes."

"Can I –"

"Yes."

Rachel leaned down and kissed her. It was soft, innocent almost, as lips leisurely slipped against lips. Then it grew heated with Rachel cupping Quinn's face and pressing deeper into her mouth. When Quinn's lips opened up, a tongue slipped inside, and the kiss was no longer anything near innocent.

Quinn rolled Rachel on top of her, unable to keep her hands from sneaking underneath Rachel's nightshirt. The skin on skin contact ran chills up Quinn's arm to her rapidly beating chest down to the area below her stomach. She felt hot, bothered, and overtaken by emotions that were still a mystery to her no matter how used she was to them over these past few months.

They break apart with a wet smack.

"I still can't believe this is happening," Rachel whispered, resting her forehead against Quinn's.

"Is that a good thing or a bad?"

"It's good. Amazing – the best thing since my bedazzled and signed Barbra Streisand Best Of Limited Collector's Edition. It beats becoming an EGOT winner."

"Wow."

"Say that again."

"Wow."

Rachel giggled before pressing their lips together into another heated kiss. They gripped, groped, grasped and rolled all over the Tempurpedic bed. Their hands ended up tangled underneath clothes before Quinn made the first move at getting rid of Rachel's shirt, and then Rachel grew enough guts to pull at Quinn's sleep shorts. They're down to their underwear by the time Quinn's on top, rolling her hips against Rachel's center.

Quinn pulled away to sprinkle kisses along Rachel's neck and mumbled, "I'm surprised I don't find this weird – kissing you. Kissing a woman."

"Do you – oh _my _– do you want to do this?"

"So much."

"This is going to change everything."

Quinn nibbled on Rachel's earlobe, causing the girl underneath her to thrust up. "I know. I want it to."

"I want it to, too."

She moved away to look down at Rachel, but kept their bodies so pressed together that air wouldn't be able to get between them. "I was so afraid, Rach, so very afraid. But I think – I think I want to be happy right now."

"And I want to make you happy." Rachel gave Quinn's ass a squeeze then began to pull Quinn's underwear down.

"I'm going to be very difficult."

"I hope you're aware that you're talking to me."

Quinn kicked her underwear off and reached behind her to get rid of her bra. "I don't like to talk about my feelings, I'm high maintenance, there will be time when _everything_ irks me, even you, and I would need space. Lots of it."

"Got it," Rachel said, giving Quinn a quick kiss before working on her own underwear and bra.

"And – and god, you're so sexy – and I don't think I can do the whole hand holding thing in public yet. We won't be able to tell my mother for a while."

Rachel yanked Quinn back on top of her, both of them moaning at the sensation of naked skin rubbing against naked skin. She kissed Quinn deeply, all tongue, and wrapped her legs around Quinn's slim waist.

"We have all the time in the world," she told Quinn. "I will never, ever push you into anything you don't want to do."

Quinn nodded, burying her head into Rachel's nape and running her hand down Rachel's chest. She came across a breast – a woman's breast! – and gave it a hard squeeze that sent Rachel arching into her. "I've never done anything like this before."

"Me neither, but we have to be very, very quiet. Also, YOLO."

"Um, what?"

"You only live once."

Quinn laughed. "Oh god, please don't –" Her laugh turned into a groan when a sneaky hand snuck it's way between her legs. Fingers touched and probed and explored parts of her that she didn't know could be explored that way. Then the fingers disappeared.

"Why'd you –"

"Lie back," Rachel said. Demanded. "You have to be quiet, ok?"

They switched position, Quinn on her back and Rachel between her legs. Quinn suddenly felt self-conscious, wanting to close her thighs, but Rachel kept a firm hold on her knee and kept them apart. Quinn slammed her head back on the pillows and closed her eyes. It pained her to know that it would probably take a while before they could do this in broad daylight.

"You're beautiful," Rachel whispered, running her hands up and down Quinn's thighs. "And what we're about to do is beautiful. Do you trust me?"

Quinn nodded.

"Look at me, baby."

The term of endearment made Quinn peel her eyes open. She breathed deeply, counted to three, and looked down her body. When their eyes connected, Rachel smiled and kissed the top of Quinn's knees. She trailed her kisses slowly down Quinn's thigh, coming closer to the source of the wet heat, before she stopped and whispered against Quinn's shaking skin, "When did you realize you had feelings for me?"

Quinn could barely chuckle, because this was so not the time to be talking. "Since – god, since so long. Senior year? Maybe even longer, but I accepted them for what they were senior year."

Quinn could make out Rachel's dipping eyebrows before the girl move onto her other knee and trailed the same path of kisses down her inner thigh. Quinn's body had been heaving off the bed by then, but she just had to know. "What – what about you?"

"Since I first laid my eyes on you."

She moaned at the feel of Rachel's hot and wet tongue making a swipe straight up her center. She gripped onto the comforter as Rachel made repeated licks at her folds, not once touching her clit or going inside. After a while, her body felt like a champagne bottle ready to burst but not being allowed to.

"Rach – Rach, I need –"

Rachel dipped her tongue inside, causing Quinn to shove one hand into Rachel's hair while the other one grabbed at her own breast. The tongue piston in and out of her, and she briefly wondered if Rachel had been lying about never having done this before. It felt good – so good that she couldn't stop herself from thrusting into Rachel's face.

She throbbed all over and was about to make a move at her clit when she felt Rachel's finger doing it for her. With Rachel tonguing her center and Rachel's finger rubbing tight circles against her clit, she couldn't hold on any longer. Remembering that there were people asleep right outside their _thin_ blankets, Quinn let out a silent scream and arched off the bed.

Her cork was popped and she felt a rush of warmth leaked all throughout her body. She hadn't realized she was yanking at Rachel's hair until Rachel tried to unclasp her fingers. "I'm – I'm sorry," she choked out, smiling the widest that she has in years.

"It's ok." Rachel peppered kisses up Quinn's stomach, sucked on Quinn's nipple, and settled for smiling lips. "Was that good?"

"Do you really need to ask?"

"FYI, if you ever want to continue getting all up on this, it wouldn't hurt to inflate my ego."

"You really need to stop talking to Santana."

They kissed, slowly and easily, before Quinn couldn't take it any longer. She rolled Rachel onto her back and thrust her hips forward. Their soaked centers connected and they both moaned loud enough to wake up the whole apartment.

"And yes."

"Yes what?" Rachel asked, breathless.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Likewise. Ego inflated now."

* * *

Upon seeing Quinn and Rachel enter the kitchen with matching sedated smiles, Santana cried, "Oh god, ew, no, no, ew, this is just, oh my god, ew," flailed her arms, and rushed into the bathroom.

Kurt looked up from his cereal bowl. "What's up with her?"

Rachel shrugged, taking a seat across from him. Quinn took a seat next to her and rested her head on Rachel's shoulder. Kurt narrowed his eyes at them, but didn't comment.

"I'd ask if you had plans today, but we already know you do," Quinn said.

Rachel giggled and wrapped an arm around Quinn's shoulder. "So that means you're not going to fight me on it?"

"Nawp." Quinn blew out her cheeks, turned to Rachel, and pecked at the corner of her mouth.

Kurt dropped his spoon.

"What are you eating there, Kurt?" Rachel asked.

"I – I uh –"

"Hey, do you want me to get you something to eat from the shop downstairs?" Quinn asked, nuzzling her nose across Rachel's cheek then dipping her mouth to the spot under Rachel's ear.

"Oh my god!" Kurt screeched.

Rachel continued to smile innocently. "Are you ok there?"

"Did she – did she just –"

"You have a little something there." Quinn thumbed the bottom of Rachel's lips, wiping off an invisible smear. Unsatisfied, she turned Rachel's head and captured those same lips into an open mouth kissed.

"Oh god ew, no, no, no!" Kurt screamed, jumping off from his chair and joining Santana in the bathroom.

They laughed into each other's mouth before Rachel pulled away and smacked Quinn's arm. "That was _evil_! I feel _evil_!"

Quinn grinned, pecking Rachel's bruised lips. "Yes, but it was funny though. That asshole deserved it for kicking me aside so that he could ship the greatness that is Brody Weston and Rachel Berry."

"Sorry, all I heard was greatness and Rachel Berry."

"Ugh, of course."

They kissed again, ignoring Santana and Kurt's simultaneous shout of, "You're both disgusting!" Quinn couldn't care less about them.

For once, she decided to be happy.


End file.
